Dread Fort Perilous - Legion X "Infortunatus"

Heroics: Mighty Solore

Mighty Solore is attacking the Sky Anchors of Fort Perilous, aiming to take the flying city-fortress out of the sky, and break the Empire's tyrannous grip on the Kingdom of Byle.

The levitating white crystals chained to the Enemy's fortress were strong, and had the corrupt stench of sorcery seeping from them like a miasma. Mighty Solore hissed at the looming monoliths of entwined chains which anchored the fortress to the heavens, sickened by the things she could sense. Did the Enemy not realise the stain that their sorcery made on the fabric of reality? How it absorbed itself into the lands they took, blasphemously mutating them into broken realms of fresh abomination? How they had made the Gloom, made the waters in the straits toxic with their disastrous polluting folly? Or perhaps those twisted souls knew exactly what their sorcery did, marching relentlessly onwards under Doom's dread beat. Either way, she would put an end to their floating city of horrors.

Pushing the air into a frenzied hurricane with her flaming wings, the dragon barrelled downwards and hit the base of the chains connecting the fortress to the first of the crystals with the diamond-hard claws of her feet. A loud snapping sounded, and half the chain links in the entwinement broke apart, leaving the levitating crystal hanging by the barest thread of metal.

The chains are strong, Solore assessed. Strong, and abnormally so. Ordinary steel would have been easily torn by her claws in a single hit.

Circling upwards into the clouds, Solore prepared for another plunge.

Raging winds howled and wailed around her like a deafening orchestra as she hurtled downwards once more, the black towers below rushing closer with their spires as sharp as the multitudinous fangs of a hungry snake.

The last of the chains snapped completely.

Solore swelled with determination. 'I am invincible,' she said, her voice carrying to everything that lay beneath her. Doom's great weapon would be destroyed by her unyielding claws, no matter how long it took nor how many times she had to strike. With one crystal already broken free and floating upwards, there weren't many left. Victory was close at hand.

CRACK!

Like a glass grenade, the crystal shattered, and a gale of light whirled out of it, hitting the dragon directly in the chest.

Solore heaved in pain. This shouldn't be possible. Sorcery shouldn't be able to do that - oh. For the first time in centuries, true fear clawed at her throat as she saw them.

A line of humans in plain black cloaks were standing hidden in the shade of the dark stone towers, chanting in a circle beneath her, their lightless eyes fixated on her from behind the slits of the scarves around their faces. The air had suddenly become impossibly heavy, and her lungs burned with the agony. She couldn't breathe. It felt like she was bleeding from the inside, except there was no blood: the blue haze leaking out from her woundless flesh was her magic. Darkness swarmed at the edges of her vision, and she fell.

— — —

'I've always wanted a pet dragon,' said a blithe voice.

Solore opened her eyes. A Tratari woman with close-cropped hair and a sadistic smile was peering down at her from a bleak stone balcony, accompanied by a Bylite lackey standing attentively behind her.

'I am not a pet!' The dragon snarled in outrage, and struck forwards with the whole of her coiled body in unflinching wrath.

She was abruptly stopped short.

A network of chains carved with streaming lines of glowing runes had been fitted with impeccable precision around each of her wings, firmly restraining them and preventing them from being spread. Fastened tightly behind her powerful jaws, a metal collar held her by the neck to the ceiling of the huge windowless chamber of dark stone, and her wrists and feet were shackled to the barren floor.

She could feel presences in the room from all around. They were hidden in every corner, hauntingly watching, appearing from the furthest reaches of her sight, and then gone like wraiths, leaving only an empty space filled by the rigid masonry. Solore was not a fool. She couldn't see them very well, but she knew they were there, guarding her like statues from the baleful darkness.

Her stomach churned in brewing unease. She knew who they were, and she knew them well.

Them, the shrouded ones who whispered.

Them, the mages.

'Pet,' said the Tratari worm, resting her elbows with insolent confidence on the edge of the balcony. 'Your name does not matter, you will forget it. You are my pet.'

Mighty Solore was appalled. A little human had the audacity to call her their pet? Such disrespect!

The dragon took a deep breath, and patiently counted to ten. Being offended by a mere human was beneath her. No, she would not allow herself that indignity. Opening her enormous jaws, Solore exhaled all of her stress and worries, along with an excessive torrent of fire, and in a calm manner, she directed it at the balcony.

'That should take care of your insolence, little human,' said Mighty Solore, trying and failing not to feel deeply insulted by the lesser being. 'My name is Mighty Solore! I am not your pet.'

To her great annoyance, the human reappeared unharmed from behind the balcony's parapet. She motioned with a hand, and her Bylite attendant swiftly wiped the soot off of her uniform, blatantly scowling behind her back as she did so. The Tratari appeared not to care about the apparent insubordination; if anything, it only seemed to encourage her impertinence further.

'Let's try this again,' said the arrogant pest. 'You are my pet. You will call me Mistress. Your name doesn't matter, and you will forget it. Pet.'

Mighty Solore clenched her claws. That did it. There was a limit to her noble restraint. She inhaled again, and with all her effort, she hurled the largest fireball she could make.

The flames petered out.

It's those Hells-cursed mages! The dragon growled. She would not be cowed by the Enemy.

'When I leave this place, I will take you with me, and I will teach you how to fly the way my father taught me,' said Solore. 'To clarify, I will take you to the highest cloud and drop you.'

The human raised her eyebrows in ridicule. 'Fascinating! And how will you leave this place?'

'It does not matter how or when I leave, because I will.' Mighty Solore stood unbent on the floor despite her bonds. She knew that her captivity was only temporary, and she would show them all nothing but her unwavering perseverance. Let them do their worst, she thought. The Enemy would never break her.

'Such ironclad certainty! You really do have a beautiful spirit, dearest pet.' The Tratari leered. 'Crushing it will be a pleasure.'